


Touch and kiss

by JauntyHako



Series: Robot, Zombie, Time Traveler [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Also Virgin!Danse, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Hancock is a power bottom when he's high, M/M, Multi, Sex solving existential crisis, Smut and Fluff, Spoilers, Threesome - M/M/M, like major fucking spoilers for the BOS questline, playing video games on the pip-boy, unhealthy and immature eating habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5292833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Look, don't touch" but can be read independently.<br/>Is set directly after 'Blind Betrayal'. Paladin Danse deals with the latest revelations with the help of John Hancock and the Sole Survivor. Them being who they are of course it ends up in a threesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch and kiss

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've warned in the tags and in the summary but I do want to make absolutely clear that this fic spoils a major fucking plot twist for the BOS questline, so if you haven't played that and want to avoid spoilers, do not read further.

“Need something to calm your nerves?”

Danse looked up from where he sat outside the listening post. He needed to get some fresh air, had left Andrew and Hancock inside to go through some of the data they found on the terminal. Just hours earlier Maxson had departed, Andrew close on his heels to receive new orders. But now he was back again, his lover in tow, keeping him company. He hadn't said so yet but he was grateful for not being forced to be alone with his thoughts. The two could be loud and inappropriate at times, but they were there for him regardless. Not even Hancock mocked him for the irony his life had become. He couldn't say the same about the Brotherhood.

“I know what you use to 'calm down' and I'm not that weak of mind.” Danse said. Instead of being offended Hancock laughed, the rasp in his voice making Danse shiver. He sat down next to him, close enough to touch and Danse hadn't yet found a replacement for his old power armour. He felt Hancock brushing against him and swallowed. Ever since that night months ago he'd had trouble seeing the ghoul for what he was. He was confused, he told himself and now that the secret was out, he wondered if these feelings weren't due to some shorted circuits somewhere in him.

Manufacturing error, he thought bitterly.

“So, if not drugs and sex, what _do_ you do when you're strung up?” Hancock asked, expertly leading him away from his dark musings. He made it sound like they were just having a chat among friends when Danse wasn't even sure they counted as acquaintances. They both tended to follow Andrew around, but that was about as much as they had in common.

They were also both non-human. Danse chose to rather think about Hancock's question than that fact.

“What makes you think I don't have, uh, sex?” he shot back and got nothing but a deep chuckle in return.

“Because you can't even say the word 'sex' without stuttering. If I'm wrong, feel free to enlighten me. In great detail please.”

The way Hancock grinned at him made Danse chortle. It was impossible to feel down with this man close by. He was so easy to be around, friendly without strings attached. Half a year ago he hated him for no other reason than being a ghoul. He'd been an idiot.

“No, you're right. I haven't … done that. Before. When I felt tense I just worked it out by training with the others. Or …” he paused, smiling to himself.

“Or what? Are you embarrassed?” Hancock asked, practically bouncing on his feet.

“We had these holo-games on the Prydwen that we used to play. Like Red Menace? When I had the time I used to play a little. It was fun. Never could beat Rhys' record, though.”

Hancock acted as if he'd seen the face of God.

“You guys actually had fun? Where did you put the sticks up your asses? Was there a storage room for them?”

Danse made a scandalised noise and swatted at Hancock's hat which promptly fell off.

“Hey! That hat is over four hundred years old. Show some respect.”

Danse watched Hancock put the hat back on and meticulously arrange it to his satisfaction. Before he thought better of it he blurted out: “It looks good on you.”

For a moment he thought he broke Hancock. The ghoul stilled, hands on the brim of his hat, eyes focused somewhere in the distance. At the same time Danse tried and failed not to let on how mortified he was. One slip of the tongue and now this. What was wrong with him? Hancock cleared his throat and the spell broke.

“I know.” he said and then, after a pause: “But thank you.”

Was it just his imagination or did he actually look shy? If he had he hid it well, because a moment later he was back to his usual self.

“Andrew's got some holo-games for his pip-boy. I bet if I pucker my lips and ask real nice he lets you play some.”

He wouldn't even need to pucker his lips. There was nothing Andrew wouldn't do for Hancock, that much had become clear in recent months. Every time the man went out of his way to get his lover a present or do him a little nicety Danse felt a pang of something he recognised to be jealousy but refused to acknowledge it. The two didn't outright flaunt their love but they didn't make a secret of it either. Being close was natural to them in a way Danse could barely comprehend. 

They made their way inside the bunker to see about Andrew letting him use his pip-boy for a bit. In the elevator Danse gave voice to his thoughts, knowing that this was the only opportunity he'd have the nerve to do so.

“Thank you.” he said and continued before Hancock could say something. “God knows I haven't given you any reason to be sociable towards me. It speaks for your good character that you treat me like this, despite the … opinions I used to display.”

Hancock only grunted, for which Danse was thankful. It had been hard enough to say this in the first place. He didn't think he could take a heart to heart.

 

Andrew napped on the couch, cap over his eyes, one arm over his stomach, the other hanging down at the side. He was too tall and lanky to fit on the sofa comfortably, giving the entire set up the impression of a child placing their favourite doll in a house that was meant for a smaller brand of doll. Hancock woke him by throwing a box of sugar bombs at him and saying “Hey, dickhead.”

Their love knew no bounds.

Andrew flipped him off, the little part of his face visible under the cap showing he grinned while he opened the box and fished for the toy inside. The little Grognak figure was placed on the end table and Andrew started on the box itself, crunching two hundred year old cereal without milk. Or even a spoon.

“I know, it's gross.” Hancock said, following Danse's gaze and shaking his head fondly. “Never liked the stuff myself. Care for some steak? We have radstag.”

Now that was something he wouldn't say no to. Only when Hancock placed a plate with well done radstag steak in front of him and some Gwinnett brew to wash it down did he realise just how hungry he was. It felt like he hadn't eaten in years. Danse dug in with gusto, wondering not for the first time what he'd be doing if it weren't for Andrew and Hancock. Most others would have deserted him,  _did_ desert him in fact, with the sole other exception of Haylen who still on occasion sent him secret messages, telling him about what was going on on the Prydwen. 

In one fell swoop he lost his family, most of his friends, his job and calling and almost his life. Even his identity was gone. His whole life had turned upside down and instead of being left alone with a gun holding one bullet he had dinner with a ghoul and a two-hundred year old man. A two-hundred year old man who had given up on scooping handfuls of sugar bombs into his mouth and gone over to placing the box at his lips and just tipping it back.

“That's disgusting, brother.” Hancock said.

“Bite me.” Andrew said muffled on account of having his mouth full of breakfast cereal.

“Later, darlin'.”

Andrew winked and made finger guns at Hancock while Danse did his best impression of Person Not Actually Present. Hancock noticed of course and tactfully changed the subject.

“Hey, doll, care to lend Mr Tin Can your pip boy later? He says he's capable of having fun and I need proof.”

“You know I'm not taking this thing off. I did one time and next thing I knew I was naked, Cait and Curie ran off together and my Pip-Boy was at the bottom of a behemoth called Swan.”

Danse remembered that particular incident and thought that maybe the two bottles of whiskey and enough jet to floor a cow had a bit to do with it.

“No one said anything about taking it off.” Hancock said, catching Danse off guard.  
“What? No, I wouldn't. How … that's not necessary, I don't need to play games anyway and-”

“Ah, shut up. It's fine, I do it all the time.”

Yes, but you're sleeping with him, Danse thought. But looking into both their faces he realised they wouldn't argue. Well, how bad could it possibly be?

 

Very bad. Very, very bad. He sat between Andrew's legs, his arms slung around him, Pip-Boy in front of him while he guided him through the controls. Neither of them wore more than their jumpsuits, Brotherhood and Vault-Tec issue respectively, which made every contact more intense. Andrew's chin rest on his shoulder, his breath ghosting over his neck and ear. He hoped he wouldn't notice the goosebumps that wouldn't go away. Hancock occupied his other shoulder and pretended to be interested in what Danse and Andrew did, when in actuality his attention was more concentrated on the inhaler full of jet he occasionally suckled on. 

“And you press that button to save your progress. Got it all?” Andrew asked softly. There was no need to speak up when his mouth was almost pressed to his ear. Danse nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. With steadier hands than he thought they would be he started up the game and soon fell into the familiar rhythm of pressing buttons he remembered from the Prydwen. For all his nervousity, playing released stress he held ever since Haylen came running up to him, panting, telling him to get the hell out, because Proctor Quinlan found something and they'd kill him, they thought he was a synth and-

Missing a pit his character on screen died, accompanied by sad music and a display of a high score that was embarrassingly low. Frustrated at his own inability to focus on something as small as a game he started again, jumping, ducking, ducking, jumping.

He'd run, took the first vertibird down to the airport and continued on foot. In his haste to get away he'd even left his power armour – hours of tinkering, repairing, getting better acquainted with the suit than his own body - behind and he regretted it almost instantly, his body not used to operating with it's own limitations. His feet hurt, his lungs ached and without the HUD in his helmet it was a small miracle he found the old listening post at all. He barricaded himself without conscious thought, powered up turrets, robots, everything to keep them out. He didn't want to die, he wanted to live and go home again and share a drink with Rhys and Haylen. He just wanted everything to be normal. He wanted to be human.

Again the little person on screen fell to its death and again Danse started, pushing down on the buttons harder than he needed to. Andrew's hand covered his and prevented him from keeping the little hero alive through at least one level. He watched him perish at the hand of a fire-spitting turtle, wanting desperately to clutch Andrew's hand tightly but not knowing if he was allowed or if he should even if he were. When only the latest highscore blinked on the screen, a pathetic 1, Andrew gently pulled his fingers away from the pip-boy and entwined his own with them.

“I don't want you to be upset.” Andrew said softly. Hancock at his side hummed his agreement. High as he was Danse was surprised he even knew what was going on anymore. Perhaps he didn't and just agreed on principle whenever he heard his lover's voice.

“I should be upset.” Danse said to the figure on the pip-boy replaying its own death over and over.

“Why?”

“Because I'm everything the Brotherhood hates. Everything _I_ hate. For years I killed synths and didn't think twice and then I find out I'm one of them. I want to return home but the Prydwen never really was my home after all. Everything I feel is artificial. Just … chemicals and fake memories making a man that doesn't really exist. I'm nothing but a Trojan horse in the Brotherhood's ranks.”

Andrew didn't say anything but held his hand tighter, pulling him closer. Hancock meanwhile chuckled over a joke Danse must have missed. He slumped against Danse, shoulders still shaking with muffled laughter.

“You're like a horse in at least _one_ way, alright.” he forced out before a laughing fit overcame him and he all but fell into Danse's lap, high as a kite and making grand gestures that drove home just what he meant by that statement. Danse blushed and pulled his knees up to hide his crotch, not an easy feet with a ghoul already occupying the space. 

“Not helping.” Andrew hissed over his shoulder. Hancock took deep breaths and managed, after two or three attempts, to rein his laughing fit in. He didn't make any attempt at getting up again, though. Instead he pushed his hat back a little so he could look Danse in the eye.

“Everything everyone feels is chemicals. It's all adrenaline and dopamine and oxytocin mixing together to give us one hell of a ride. You are skin and blood and muscle and so many drugs a body's worth full of them would charge hundreds. Who cares about the rest? Your past may not be real, and even the stuff that did happen is plenty fucked up, but what happens now, that's real, that's important. You don't need to be human to be a person, brother.”

At once Danse understood how Hancock had been able to charm an entire city and keep order among a litter of wildly different people all running from something and arriving at his doorstep, weary, frightened, looking for a friendly face and finding him. He looked down into his black eyes, even the scleras tinted like the night sky. So utterly alien but for all the missing skin and nose and demon's eyes, Hancock still looked like innocence personified. His expression was open, that was what it was, Danse realised. Where most people masked their faces either to protect themselves or to deceive others, Hancock looked into the world with an honesty as if he had nothing to hide. When a man like that told you you were a person, you believed him. Even if he was under the influence.

“Thank you.” Danse said, less steady than he hoped, more secure than he feared. In the spur of the moment he reached out and cupped Hancock's cheek who closed his eyes and nuzzled it while making low happy noises. The smile spread over his face infected Danse as well. When lips touched his neck in a fond kiss, he wasn't even surprised. Stranger things had happened.

Andrew trailed his mouth along the vein in Danse's neck up behind his ear and smiled when it made him shiver.

“Smooth-talker, always knowing what to say.” he said to Hancock who merely gave a two-fingered mock salute with his eyes still closed, all but purring into Danse's hand. “He's right, though. You're a good man, Danse, synth or not.”

With that he cupped Danse's chin and turned his head enough for them to meet in a kiss. The first touch of lips almost made him flinch. Up until now it all had been like a dream. Sitting between Andrew's legs, Hancock in his lap, the two of them sweet-talking him. It didn't take a genius to figure out where this was going but for some reason Danse realised it only now. This was going to end in sex and he didn't know what to do with that information. For now he figured he could roll with the punches, enjoy the rough texture of Andrew's dry lips on his, the pressure and then barely noticeable at first the tip of his tongue gently parting Danse's lips. His heart hammered against his ribs as Andrew's hand cradled the back of his neck and caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Andrew's tongue shot forward again, flicked playfully against his own. Danse gasped and sunk against Andrew. He knew he should reciprocate the kiss, at the very least to show him that he appreciated it. He didn't know how. It was his first. Andrew didn't mind his inaction. His eyes were half-lidded with desire, his breath warm and sweet, mingling with Danse's. They parted, lips catching on each other. Before Danse could do anything Andrew was back again, kissing his lips, his chin, peppering his jawline with lots of them.

He breathed a sigh, fisted his free hand into Andrew's vault-suit, the world spinning either for lack of air or the sheer overwhelming situation of being kissed. He no longer knew. Machines shouldn't feel these things but when Andrew bit and sucked a mark in the crook where neck met shoulder, all he could do was gasp helplessly and look to Hancock, not entirely sure what he expected to find. What he saw made his voice catch. Hancock watched them with an expression of pure hunger, teeth dug into his lower lip.  
“God, you two are hot together.” he said the moment he noticed Danse staring and shot up to claim his share of the spoils. Hancock didn't do half-measures. Kissing him was like fighting a deathclaw. Danse lost his sense of direction, no longer knew where up and down was, his only focus Hancock's tongue pushing roughly into his mouth, tasting him and finding the taste to his satisfaction if the desperate moan was any indication. He climbed over Danse, pressed his body against him and cupped his face in his hands, just inches over where Andrew still sucked and licked, the corners of his mouth turning up with every needy sound he drew from him.

He'd wondered what it would be like to kiss a ghoul from the first time he'd seen Hancock and Andrew do it. Had thought it would be disgusting, awkward at best. In the brief second when Hancock allowed them some air before diving back in just as passionately, Danse thought numbly that whatever he thought it would be, this wasn't it. There was something sharp, but not unpleasant in Hancock's breath and the moment his head began to swim, Danse knew it had to be remnants of jet. He wasn't used to drugs but even so the ghoul must have had an almost fatal amount of the stuff in his system for it to affect him. Half a minute into the kiss, Hancock urging him to kiss back, making noises of support when Danse shyly mimicked what he'd learned so far, everything became more detailed. Things his perception normally wouldn't have the capacity to process drifted into focus. Andrew's hair tickling his skin, Hancock's weight on his legs, the tiny jerks his hips made betraying his arousal. He heard Andrew's heart, ears picked up on Hancock swallowing hard, smelled their combined arousal. All this in a single second, the sheer number of influences making it seem like the world slowed to a crawl. He felt Hancock growing limp under him likely before the ghoul himself did and reached out to steady him before he fell over. Saw the surprise in his face turning to need, knew that pulling the ghoul flush against him was a good idea and did just that. Only then did they part and several deep breaths of fresh air later the world went back to its usual pace.

“Hell and damnation.” he murmured, disbelief written all over him. Hancock carded his hands through Danse's hair, scratched his scalp that caused a full-body shiver to fall down Danse's head over his shoulders and his back down to his toes. Hancock's hands were busy somewhere else and it might have been him that played with the zipper of his fatigues, might have been Andrew. With a hit of jet, or another drawn-out kiss with a ghoul high on it, he might feel the difference without looking. That thought caught him by surprise. It wasn't so much the drug that was alluring but the feeling it caused. The uneasiness must have shown on his face, because Hancock placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and said: “Don't worry. One hit doesn't make you an addict. Well, unless you're worried about getting addicted to _me_ , in which case I have to say sorry, brother, 's already too late.”

Danse laughed, taken aback at how rough his voice sounded and certainly not expecting the hungry growl it elicited in Andrew. It was definitely his hand that pulled down the zipper and pulled his fatigues down his shoulders to his waist, baring him to them both. They didn't give him time to feel self-conscious. Andrew's hands were all over him, stroking, dragging his nails down his sides, hard enough to leave red marks and just this side of pain.

“Rub my back a little, yeah? Just between the shoulder blades. Ah, that's it.” Hancock said, sighing and arching his back when Danse did as he was told. The way he moved on top of him, stretching like a cat in the sun was downright obscene. And all through it those noises, content, arousal and sheer joy a cocktail of something Danse couldn't get enough of. That voice did things to him he wouldn't have been proud of just a few days ago. Now he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. He kneaded the tensions out of Hancock's back, felt ridiculous pride everytime his muscles softened a bit more under his touch, as if making Hancock relax was the greatest achievement he could gain in his life. As he went on Hancock moved languidly against him, every now and then he'd brush against the bulge in Danse's pants, making him gasp. He had his eyes closed, one hand seeking Danse's free one and crossing them together, with the other he touched himself, dragged it up and down his chest, slipped underneath his coat. Danse watched Hancock twisting his nipples through his shirt, locked his arm tighter around his hip when Hancock bucked his hips and groaned. His lips were parted just so, a pink tongue darting out to wet what little was left of his lips. It shouldn't be as goddamn _sexy_ as it was, but that was Danse's life now, being painfully hard over a ghoul pleasuring himself in his lap.

“Little slut, isn't he?” Andrew whispered in his ear, his fingertips digging into Danse's hips as he pushed his own hard cock against his backside. Danse whimpered something that might have been agreement. Someone needed to touch him and soon or he would lose his mind. Andrew's cock was hard and heavy against his lower back. If he had a hand free he would have reached back, see if it really was as large as it felt, maybe pulled it out of the tight blue suit, give it a few jerks. He wondered what it would feel like to have another man's cock in his hand.

“Mmh, just look at him. Putting on a show for us, presenting himself like a good little whore.”

The vulgarity of it made Danse avert his eyes but Andrew caught the movement and made him look back up again.

“He loves it.” he continued, deep and sultry. “Don't you, Hancock? Tell Danse how much you love being called a whore.”

The slow roll of Hancock's hips quickened, grew more insistent. Now he pushed against Danse's cock with almost every move.

“Love it.” he said, breathless. He didn't stroke himself yet, but his hand was under his waistband, rubbing the sensitive skin around his cock. “Love it so much. Need your cock in me, need it bad.”

“Whose cock?” Andrew asked, a wicked grin on his face. Hancock growled.

“Don't care. You, Danse, just need someone to pound my ass good and hard.”

What else could Danse do but imagine just that? Hancock sitting on top of him, wet and hot, riding him fast, begging to come. His cock twitched at the thought alone. His breathing sped up and again when Andrew reached down and pulled his cock free from his fatigues, Danse helping by wriggling out of them fully, and gave it a rough jerk.

“You want to fuck Hancock?” he asked and Danse nodded, nodded harder again just in case Andrew didn't get the message. Andrew laughed, twisting his wrist just so and making Danse keen.

“Eager, aren't we? Sit up a bit and scoot back to the wall.”

Andrew got up from behind him, abandoning him and his aching dick and Danse would have cursed him but the moment his back hit the wall, Hancock fell down to his hands and knees and licked up the full length of his cock.  
“Oh, _fuck_.” Danse's head knocked against the wall. Hancock sucked on his balls, moaning like he wanted nothing more in the world than have his mouth stuffed full. Danse could barely keep his eyes open with Hancock's hand around him, stroking him slowly while he sucked at his balls, took them in his mouth fully, let them go only to repeat the process. He did only to watch Andrew kneel behind Hancock, having gotten rid of his suit in the meantime and did the same with Hancock's trousers. He took Danse's cock in his mouth, swirled his tongue around the tip, sucked and hollowed his cheeks. Danse scrambled for purchase, found it partly in the mattress, partly on the back of Hancock's head, resisting the urge to pull him forward and fuck his face. A sharp slap on his ass made Hancock jerk forward, swallow more of the cock in his mouth. As if he'd just gotten a taste of it, Hancock took him in even more until his face bumped against the base, buried in the coarse dark hair there. He let off Danse only to turn his head towards Andrew.

“Get on with it, will ya?” he asked, pretending to be testy or really losing patience with the foreplay, Danse couldn't tell. Andrew smiled at him over his desperate lover, coating his fingers in oil and pushing them into Hancock just as he once again took Danse between his lips. The ensuing moan vibrating up his shaft almost made Danse come on the spot. A clever tongue licked up the pre-cum and worked him for more, pressing hard against the underside. All the while he rocked backward against Andrew, coat and shirt pushed up and to the side so that Danse had an excellent view of the dip in his back, bare skin just begging to be touched, despite its irradiated roughness. He still didn't know what a ghoul's skin felt like without clothing between them and the curiousity won over any lingering hesitance. He stuck his hand out, had to angle his body forward to reach a patch of naked skin and timidly brushed his thumb over it.

It wasn't horrible. Not good either, though. Mostly it felt strange, not like skin at all but like dried paper maché with ridges and edges where none should be. At least it wasn't as fleshy as a feral's body and after some reluctance he continued exploring Hancock's back with the tips of his fingers first and then his hand when he got used to the feeling. It would have taken him longer to forget about the alien texture of Hancock's skin if said man didn't incidentally also gave him a blowjob worthy of the gods. His touches remained light, the unfamiliarity of it all keeping him from being rougher. Hancock still seemed pleased if his deep sighs and moans were any indication. He came up for air, lips slick with spit and pre-cum. Danse wanted to kiss him, stopped halfway there, unsure if he really wanted to taste himself and then deciding ultimately that he wanted to kiss Hancock more than he was grossed out. There was still the sharp taste of jet accompanying the kiss and Danse made sure not to breathe in too hard. His hand rested in in the arch of Hancock's back, every second that he touched him his skin less foreign. Now he felt its warmth more than its texture, the dryness rather than the leathery softness.

“Want you in me.” Hancock panted and pulled himself up. He guided Danse's hands to his ass, made him spread his cheeks and knead the soft flesh. “Now.”

Danse took himself in hand, squeezed the base a bit to keep from coming and pushed the tip into his hole. It was wet and open, fluttering as he pushed deeper, Hancock whining and ordering him to go faster.  
“Can take it. Just fuck me, fuck me, come on.”

Danse had no doubt he could. His fingers brushed along his rim, tight around him but he was sure if he really wanted he could fit in a finger or two next to his cock without much trouble. He wanted to take his time, though. Wanted to watch Hancock's lips part in an o-shape and his eyes squeeze shut as he was filled slowly. He held onto Danse's shoulders, would have pushed down on him if Danse didn't keep his hips and ass firmly in his hands, held them to set his own pace. It drove Hancock mad.

“Fuck, do it already. I'll beg if I have to.”

Danse was just about to tell him to have some patience when Andrew was there, hugging Hancock from behind and capturing Danse's lips in a kiss over his shoulder.

“Now there's an idea. Beg, tell us how much you want it.”

Danse bottomed out, Hancock sitting his lap, arms thrown around him, face buried in his neck. He still wore his hat and coat and Danse took of first the one and then gently pulled off the other, one arm after the other, stroking Hancock's trembling arms while he did it. His shirt was divested off just as quickly and he looked just like Danse remembered. Thinner than all those layers of clothing made him look like, downright vulnerable shaking and rutting against Danse as much as he could with his iron grip on him.

“Fuck me, Danse.” he said and the use of his name sent shivers down Danse's spine. “Take me hard, make me your cockslut, I wanna cum with your cock in me, please, please.”

He looked to Andrew for reassurance, found the man's pupils blown wide, his mouth half open. A quick glance down showed Danse he was stroking himself. He took that as his cue to grant Hancock's wish and pulled out halfway and rammed himself back into him. Hancock howled, threw his head back. Danse softened his grip on his hips a little, allowing Hancock to ride him hard and fast. He fucked himself on Danse's cock, ass clenching around him, his own cock bouncing between them. Danse pulled him down, held him there for a second or two and rolled his hips. Then released him again, rubbing his cheek against Hancock's head, still between his neck and shoulder. He felt him mouth at his collarbone, teeth scraping over skin, desperate gasps and licks in between. Andrew reached around, took Hancock's cock in a loose fist and made him work at it himself. Hancock was reduced to incomprehensible pleas, wouldn't last much longer. Not with Andrew's hand around his cock and him fucking his ass. Danse was close, fucked harder into Hancock's tight hole, swallowed his moans until they were reduced to shaky breaths. He felt his orgasm approach, hot, his insides clenching together. He came with a shout, muffled with an open-mouthed kiss all tongue and teeth, licking into Hancock's mouth as he filled him up with his cum. His skin pulled taut, and he slowed down only when the overstimulation caused him pain. He pulled out, all too aware that Hancock hadn't come yet, berating himself already about being so damn inconsiderate when Andrew took up where he just left off, pushing his cock in. Cum and lube dripped down Hancock's legs and Andrew swept some of it up, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Look at you. Filthy. Go on, clean up.”

Danse watched as Hancock eagerly took Andrews fingers in his mouth and licked his cum off them, hacked off moans interrupting his efforts. Andrew fucked him hard, skin slapping on skin, feeding Hancock cum and jerking him hard enough to be painful. Hancock relished in it, breath hot against Danse's neck.

“'m close, 'm close …” he chanted and came, cum splattering all over Danse's stomach, jerking weakly. Andrew followed suit, he pushed into him one last time and groaned, coming into the mess Danse left behind. Hancock's knees gave away first. He fell forward into Danse's arms who shuffled down and back, making it so that Hancock could spread out over him like the limp lettuce in a BLT sandwich. With about as much vigour left as said leaf Hancock did just that, smiling and high on the aftershocks. Andrew fell down next to them, still breathing heavily and slowly coming down.

With as little actual movement as possible he reached out to find his suit and fished out a pack of cigarettes and his flip lighter. He took a deep drag and blew out the smoke over their heads, the look of bliss in his face so erotic Danse's cock gave a valiant twitch to get hard again. He brushed Andrew's shoulder to get his attention and motioned for the cigarette. Instead of handing it over Andrew drew on it again and pressed his mouth to Danse's. He blew the smoke into Danse's mouth who breathed it in, eyes wide and trained on Andrew. The taste of tobacco filled his mouth and scratched his throat, the brand stronger than what he usually preferred but very welcome just now. Andrew pulled back just in time for Hancock to realise what was going on and demand some nicotin himself. He leaned into the kiss and accepted the smoke like it was the only way he ever took it.

“Mmmh, that was a damn good fuck.” Hancock said casually. Andrew hummed in agreement, as did Danse. The reality of what just happened hadn't entirely sunken in and he wasn't hot on dealing with the consequences just now.

As if in response to his thoughts Andrew nudged his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, sounding slightly more lucid than just minutes before. Danse gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Yes.” He paused. “No. I don't know.”

Hancock shifted on top of him, moving so his chin rested on his chest.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing's wrong. This was just … new. This isn't how I pictured where I would be a year ago. This isn't where I thought I'd be an hour ago.”

Andrew made a noise that sounded vaguely disapproving.

“I think it's been a bit longer than that.” he said.

“Well, why don't you check your Pip-Boy?” Hancock asked and Danse noticed at the same time that Andrew wasn't wearing it. He held his arm in front of his face, saw nothing where he expected the computer to be and shot straight up.

“Fuck! Where is it? I just pulled it off to get undressed, fuck, fuck, fuck …”

Hancock and Danse watched amused as Andrew searched for his Pip-Boy and, after near panicking, found it lying under Hancock's hat, which he threw over to its owner. Hancock caught it one-handed and pulled it over his head, going back to resting on Danse's broad chest. Andrew cuddled back up to them, his arm with the Pip-Boy outstretched so it wouldn't get in the way.

“So, anyway.” he said as if his brief search never happened. “I know this is all very sudden, so we're not gonna put pressure on you.”

Danse tilted his head to the side to look at Andrew who looked as honest and serious as he ever did. The effect was slightly ruined by his nudity.

“If you want this to be a one time thing, that's cool, is what he's trying to say.” Hancock said, voice groggy. He seemed to be already half asleep.

“Yeah. But, you know, a repeat performance is totally in the cards. Or, maybe, I don't know, if you want …” Andrew trailed off, stammering his way through nothing to no end. “What I mean is, Hancock and I talked, like, a lot and if it's something you want, too, we wouldn't mind being a bit more domestic. The three of us, I mean. Together. Only you know we're not really _domestic_ domestic, so it's not like we-”

Danse interrupted Andrew's rambling with a kiss, hand cupping his cheek. It was just a brief touch of the lips, one that reminded Danse that they both ought to drink something soon, but it brought his point across.

There were a million things that he needed to say, discuss. How all this related to him being a synth, how domesticity even worked between a robot, a zombie and a time traveler, if they could do this again very soon. Some things he needed to arrange himself with. That sleeping with a ghoul wasn't the least bit gross, that something like romantic feelings may be on the horizon and, having never had those before in any larger capacity, needed addressing fast. But for now he could let those issues rest and catch some sleep, warm, safe and in the company of people he trusted and liked and who liked him just as much despite knowing what he was. They'd figure things out in due time and, for the first time in a while, Danse didn't feel uncertain about his future.

“I'd like that.” he said and left it at that.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still kinda torn between Hancock being a top and a power bottom. I sort of see him as dominant in bed, but then he does something cute as fuck and I'm back to "nope, that dude's the bottom bitch and loving it" so right now I'm writing him as dominant and toppy when he's sober and needy bottom when he's high.


End file.
